


Small Secrets

by Mystical_Artist



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Gen, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-17
Updated: 2013-04-17
Packaged: 2017-12-08 17:50:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/764236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mystical_Artist/pseuds/Mystical_Artist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Going for a new look, Finch?” he asked in his usual rasp.</p>
<p>The billionaire stopped his coding and turned to face him. “Mr. Reese?” he squinted, as though he was checking to make sure it really was him. “No, Bear thought it would be fun to hide my glasses,” he said with a glare directed towards the canine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Small Secrets

**Author's Note:**

> I don't like this one as much, but I've been curious as to whether or not Finch actually needs his glasses since Proteus, and this is the result.

When Harold woke up that morning with his head on the computer desk, he knew it was going to be a long day. His neck was already aching, and in his sleepiness he managed to knock his glasses on the floor.

Unfortunately, Bear decided that his master had gotten him a new toy and proceeded to wedge them under a bookshelf. 

After multiple failed attempts to retrieve them, he decided it wasn’t worth crawling around on the floor and possibly throwing his back out.   
  


 

Finch proceeded with his morning routine and had all but forgotten about his missing spectacles when Reese arrived an hour later.

The ex-agent paused a few feet away from the desk with two cups in his hands.

“Going for a new look, Finch?” he asked in his usual rasp.

The billionaire stopped his coding and turned to face him. “Mr. Reese?” he squinted, as though he was checking to make sure it really was him. “No, Bear thought it would be fun to hide my glasses,” he said with a glare directed towards the canine.

Bear gave an apologetic whine in response.

 

Reese stepped forward and placed Finch’s tea next to him on the desk.

“You seemed to be getting on fine before I came in,” he said gesturing toward the computer screen.

Finch gave him an annoyed look. “I can see things up close, Mr. Reese.” 

“Funny,” Reese replied, taking a drink, “you could see the board just fine from where you’re sitting. That’s not very close.”

Finch glanced at the pictures taped up to the glass and realized that, yes, it _wasn’t_ very close. So much for that.

 

Reese slowly reached into his suit jacket and pulled out a pair of glasses identical to the one’s Finch always wore.

“Seems to me you don’t really need these at all.” He unfolded the arms and placed them on his face. “These aren’t prescription lenses, Harold. In fact, you have multiple pairs hidden around here, and none of them are.”

Finch blinked at him with wide eyes and briefly wondered how many pairs Reese had stolen for himself. He quickly dismissed the thought, but found it difficult to focus with the taller man wearing his glasses.

He took another step closer and leaned his hip against the table. “Are they a fashion statement, or just another eccentricity?”

Harold opened his mouth to reply but hesitated, debating on how much information to give away. He mentally sighed and decided there was no use in denying the fact that the glasses were, in fact, useless.

 

“Congratulations, Mr. Reese. You discovered another secret,” he said dryly.

Bear gave a happy bark, obviously pleased that he had helped one of his masters discover something new.

 

“I’m afraid your face shape isn’t the correct one for those particular glasses. Not very flattering, Mr. Reese.” Finch said with a trace of a smile.

John raised an eyebrow and carefully returned them to Finch’s face.

 

They really _did_ look better on the billionaire.

 

His fingers lingered on Harold’s cheek. “Feel like sharing any other secrets?”

“Hmm, not at the moment. I wouldn’t want to lose my air of mystery.” Harold replied, his small smile growing wider.

Reese trailed his fingers down the billionaire’s face. “Guess I’ll have to wait,” he said with an exaggerated sigh.

 

Finch reached up and lightly grasped John’s fingers.

“Don’t worry, Mr. Reese. Your patience will pay off eventually.”

Reese gave a small grin. “I’m holding you to that, Harold.”


End file.
